


Submission

by hanyou_elf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Implied abuse, Light BDSM, M/M, implied sexual relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let it go," Draco ordered softly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Submission

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hd_cliche fest on livejournal. My chosen prompts: abused!Harry, BDSM, and non-magical AU.

**Title:** Submission  
 **Author/Artist:** **Cliche:** BDSM, non-magic AU, abused!Harry  
 **Word Count/Art Medium:** 2,000 on the dot!  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Warning(s) (Highlight to view):** * Mentions of abuse of the physical, sexual and mental variety; implied sexual violence (but not between the boys!)*  
 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
 **Notes:** Thank you to the amazing zhem for being the best cheerleader a girl could ever ask for, and without whom, this would never have been finished!  
 **Summary:** “Let it go,” Draco ordered softly.

It wasn’t like he was a new visitor amongst the leather clad masses. He had been a regular for months now, with a reputation as a pain slut. He took whatever anyone wanted to give him and he was happy enough about it. At least he was until he met the infamous Master Draco Malfoy. Harry didn’t mind it when the men who claimed to be dominants tied him up and beat him into near incoherency. He preferred it, the normalcy of the actions. He didn’t want tenderness or gentleness. He didn’t want to be coddled. He wanted to be beaten, wanted to be tied up and used like the worthless thing he believed himself to be. 

Draco was different. He didn’t want to use Harry in public, even though he was a very flashy dominant. He liked his submissives to be pretty and photogenic, which ruled Harry out. But Draco had still taken him on, and continued to do so with frightening regularity. Harry was the antithesis of Draco’s previous toys. He had shaggy brown hair, scars everywhere, included the one front and center on his forehead (glass broken over his head and a jagged edge that had dug in deep). He wore clunky glasses over his green eyes and had otherwise unremarkable features. Draco’s tastes usually ran to the more ethnic choices: he liked dark skin, reveled in showing how prettily he could decorate it with pretty ropes and positioning.

Tonight, Draco was waiting for Harry. He always sought the blond dominant out, to know what he’d be doing. The blond beckoned him forward with crooked fingers. Harry looked forward to, and dreaded, sessions with Draco. His way of dominating was almost too gentle, but he was addicted to it. He loved that Draco could take him deep into subspace with ropes and gentle teasing, rather than the whips and chains that others used. 

At his side, Harry found himself kneeling at Draco’s side, his jean-clad knees comfortable on the familiar throw pillow available for any sub. He folded his hands in his lap, head bowed and back straight. This was Draco’s preferred look for the obedient submissive. And Harry was nothing if not willing to please. 

A strong hand slid through the soft curls on his head, stroked gently over his scalp in a teasing brush. Harry shivered and his eyes fell shut. Draco was the only one who ever bothered to touch him like that. Like Harry was valuable and precious. And for the brief time he spent with Draco, Harry luxuriated in it. 

They stayed like that for a long twenty minutes. Draco teased him with soft touches. When he was satisfied they’d waited long enough, Draco stood and strode off toward the room they always used at the club. Harry followed, watched the slim body in front of him. Draco was wearing jeans and a pale button down shirt. He looked like a male model, straight from the magazine pages. His blond hair was almost iridescent in the low lights and black lights. 

Alone with Draco, Harry fell to his knees immediately and resumed the position Draco demanded. He watched the blond moving purposefully, watched as he pulled black rope, handcuffs, and a small red and black flogger out of his familiar backpack. There was a small cross waiting in the corner of the room and Draco stopped beside it. He cocked a hip to the side as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Shirt, shoes, and jeans off. Fold them, and put them on the bench,” Draco ordered.

Harry rose to obey his commands. He toed the shoes off and slid them under the bench. Harry folded his jeans and sat them in the chair. After, he put his folded t-shirt down on top of them, folded as neatly as if they’d been in a department store. He’d been well trained growing up, and he knew how to keep clothes as neat as possible (the laundry basket he’d been forced into, and the electrical cord that had ripped his back open ensures that he was a laundry pro). 

Harry fell to his knees, waiting further instruction. It was going to be a long session, Draco was drawing himself out for a long night. He was ready to be commanding and he had a hip braced against the sturdy cross. He was only like that for long days. Otherwise, Harry would already be on the cross and submitting.

“Harry Potter,” Draco murmured softly. He ran a hand through platinum blond hair and pushed himself up to his full height. “Assume the position,” Draco ordered as he gestured at the cross. 

Harry obliged. He pushed himself to his feet and strode as gracefully as he could to the cross. Standing before the lacquered wood, he faced it expectantly. When he was hooked up to it, Draco could draw the most intense reactions from him. It wasn’t painful, sometimes it was gentle and teasing until Harry was begging for pain to finish it off. 

Harry climbed up onto the foot ledge and spread his arms, holding onto the edge of the ropes. On the left, Draco dragged his hands up Harry’s arm, traced the muscles before he wrapped his long fingers around Harry’s wrist. He licked his lips before the cool metal wrapped around his wrist and Draco pet his hand. He stepped around the cross, passing behind Harry, so he couldn’t see him through the arms of the cross, and repeated the process on the right. 

Stuck in position, Harry closed his green eyes and fell into the mindset he needed so he could be a good boy for Draco. He had once been ashamed of the ravage that was his back, but Draco’s tender touches and soft caresses always worked to make him feel special enough. Draco accepted his scars as truths, as a mapwork of where he’d been and what he’d endured. And every time he spent long moments familiarizing himself with the old scars and learning the new ones. 

Calloused fingers traced the ragged shapes of scars, traveled the raised edges gently where skin had been broken and healed over badly. The worst spots were blessed with loving kisses, the slide of dry lips over rough skin. It was the most intimate thing that he did with the blond. And he’d been used in so many ways. So creatively. 

“Draco,” Harry breathed. 

The blond didn’t stand by titles in scene. Harry was a grown man, without using the titles frequently, he had to remind himself that he was submitting, that he had to change his behavior to ensure that he could be pleasing to the other man. 

“You’ve gotten new scars since the last time we saw each other,” Draco murmured thoughtfully. His gentle hands traced the two new scars that bisected his spine. He’d been clumsy and forgetful at the hands of another master and he’d been beaten unconscious by the cane as punishment. The man had been very precise about how he laid the cane across Harry’s back, and the two scars were proof his precision. 

“I was disobedient,” Harry answered with a shrug. “I was-”

“There’s no excuse for brutality,” Draco interrupted as he dragged a soft hand down the scars on his back. “There should be elegance in domination.” 

“Yes sir,” Harry answered softly. 

He closed his eyes and let his chin rest against the intersection of the cross and waited. Draco was a classy dominant. He liked to know that he could control through simple words and actions, rather than through brute force. And it was something that Harry was otherwise unfamiliar with.

“Prepare yourself,” Draco ordered. He brandished the flogger, dragged the soft and supple leather up Harry’s back and over his shoulders. Green eyes watched the faded crimson and dark grey tracing his skin gently and nodded his head. “Safe words?” 

“Quidditch to slow things down. And Slytherin to stop.” 

“Very good. Are you ready?” 

“Yes sir,” Harry nodded. He shifted on the cross and braced himself for the first blows. 

The flogger came down across his back, a stinging but gentle brush down his skin. He flinched from the shock of the sudden touch but schooled his reactions. Standing still beneath the overhead light, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the supple leather brushing against him. It was almost painful, but soft enough to keep him desperate for more. It left a warm trail where he was hit and Harry whimpered. 

He wanted more. He wanted harder, wanted to feel it digging into his skin, leaving lacerations and broken skin behind. He wanted Draco to tear him down and break him apart, but it didn’t look like it was going to happen this time. Draco was soft, more into sensuality instead of brutality. And the contrast between the blond and the other men that Harry found himself submitting to was immense. 

“Please,” he begged when he was unable to take the gentleness anymore.

The plea, plaintive and quiet, was not ignored. Draco stopped the movements of the flogger and stepped in close. Harry could feel Draco’s body heat through the silken shirt. The blond’s hand slid into Harry’s hair and gripped the disheveled brunet curls and pulled his head up. “What do you need?” he asked with a soft kiss to Harry’s sweaty temple. 

“Harder. More,” he answered softly. 

“Not tonight,” Draco answered. He slid a hand out of Harry’s hair and down where he massaged the taut muscles across his shoulders and neck.

He kissed Harry’s temple once more and stepped back. He brushed the leather down Harry’s back before he resumed the soft slapping against Harry’s back. It was a quick but gentle spanking that teased him. It was hard enough for Harry to feel against his scarred skin, but it was soft enough to just turn his skin. He knew from experience that Draco would just leave him pinked and tingling. 

“Let it go,” Draco ordered softly. 

He brought the flogger down harder and Harry jerked. He groaned in pleasure and let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling above him. He lost himself in the repetitive movements of Draco’s careful flogging. It was the best thing in the world. The flogging was soft, just gentle enough to be felt but only enough to be pink. To leave him sore, but reveling in the feeling. 

He was panting with tears flowing down his cheeks when Draco stopped. It wasn’t that it was hard, or that he was cruel, it was that a man was taking Harry to task, controlling him, and letting him know that it was okay to love submission, and that it didn’t have to hurt.

Draco left him resting quietly on the cross while he wiped the flogger clean with Clorox wipes from his backpack. He put the flogger up and stood directly behind Harry. The brunet clenched his eyes shut as Draco unlocked his wrist. He dragged nails down Harry’s skin and pressed a kiss to his temple before he repeated the movement on the other wrist, supporting him when he fell back against the blond. 

Harry let himself relax back into Draco’s solid presence, let the thin man’s firm body bolster his own. He pressed against the scars and sore spots of his body, pressed against the tingling warm spots on his back and ass where he’d been flogged for however long it was. Draco stood securely before the cross and supported Harry easily with his hands warm around Harry’s stomach and chest. It was comfortable, this moment of silence and care while he waited for what would happen next.

“If there are no new marks next time we meet,” Draco murmured softly. “I will give you what you want.”

Harry nodded in understanding and let himself go in Draco’s arms. He closed his eyes and buried his face in Draco’s neck, ignoring the awkward angle. “Yes sir,” he sighed tiredly.


End file.
